Dress Rehearsal

Dad and I spent the afternoon sorting out Mom’s closet. I climbed into a jungle of dresses and blouses and coats and sweaters. We joked some, to fill the silence, about how women had so much stuff. I hung Mom’s sheer scarves over the open window and Dad watched them dance in the breeze to … More Dress Rehearsal

Person of the Year

My father’s success can be measured by test results. It is confirmed many times over on the plaques adorning the walls of his study. It is studied by students and colleagues all over the world. My father is beloved by those in his field. His greatness is worshipped by the lab coat gods. His name … More Person of the Year

Support Group

Jay gave me crap about the plan the whole way over. He parked, sat back smugly and asked if I needed help crossing the street. I shot him the finger, told him to leave it running. Nearing St. Peters Church on Seventh and Reading, I tossed my smoke and fixed my hair. I entered through … More Support Group

Sticking Together

My dad tends to take things to ridiculous levels. It always has to be big, spectacular. Epic, he likes to say. Mom told me that he proposed on a skyscraper. Like, on the window of the skyscraper, dressed as Spiderman, with a note and a ring as she stood gazing out the window. On my … More Sticking Together

Beer Battered Santa

I was up late—Johnny Carson late. Mom and her new friends were in the kitchen, where they’d spent the evening making jolly, singing and laughing and carrying on well past dinner. Every once in a while she’d pop her head around the corner, the phone cord stretching as she reminded Angie and me that Santa … More Beer Battered Santa

Table for Two

Mesh whistled a tune as he wheeled the can out to the alley behind the restaurant. He hoisted the bag of slop and slung it over into the dumpster. It landed with a thud and he started back inside. “Hey Mesh.” He looked up. “Oh, hey Brooke. Are you uh, okay?” She blew a cloud … More Table for Two